


20 kisses is not enough

by Madame_Xela



Series: Modern Madness [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:39:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1839628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Xela/pseuds/Madame_Xela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the 20 day kiss challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Romantic part one

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sort of continuation of my 25 days of the holidays. Some chapters will be set before and some after.

Their ten year anniversary dawned warm and foggy at sea. Four year old Frodo managed to weasel his way in between his parents sometime in the early morning. Fíli and Kíli (now eight and six respectively) entered the room at seven in the morning with their little cartons of orange juice (with one for Frodo of course) and a few handmade cards and two dark coffee mugs.

They too weaseled their way in between Thorin and Bilbo (thank God Thorin had the foresight to get them the biggest bed possible for the cruise, though Bilbo suspected he had a different reasoning behind it) and placed their gifts on one of the nightstands. Frodo had woken up from the movement and had happily taken his orange juice while Fíli turned on the television to some silly cartoon.

Bilbo was the first to wake.

“Morning Daddy!” The boys chorused.

“Morning boys.” He said as he stretched until his back popped.

“Happy Ant-iversary Daddy!” Frodo chirped. Smiling, Bilbo kissed his forehead.

“Anniversary, love. And thank you. Now, what are we watching while we wait for Papa to get up?” It was a rule (made up by the children) that Thorin and Bilbo were, under no circumstances, allowed to read their cards and or open their presents on their anniversary without both there and awake.

“Spongebob!” Kíli yelled. Though he had aged a bit, it did not make him any quieter.

“Shh, Darling. We don’t want to wake Papa.” The boys quieted, but it wasn’t long before Thorin was awake.

“Spongebob and orange juice and I wasn’t invited. I’m hurt.” The dark haired man yawned. Reaching over their children (and much to the boys’ disgust) he kissed his curly haired husband square on the mouth. “Happy Anniversary, Bilbo.”

Bilbo kissed back. “Happy Anniversary, Love.”

With both of their parents finally awake, the boys handed them their cards and presents. Frodo made them a picture of their family (that was surprisingly good for a four year old). Kíli made them a card with entirely too much glitter, but it was sweet nonetheless. And Fíli painted them a picture of the two of them protecting their children from a big red dragon. Totally cool.

“Oh these are lovely! Let me go put them on the bureau and we can-”

“Daddy, we not done yet!” Thorin laughed as his husband was bullied back into sitting by their youngest son. Kili pushed a black mug into Thorin’s and then into Bilbo’s hands.

“Uncle Bofur helped us with these! They’re magic!” he said, nearly bursting with excitement.

“He said if you put something hot in them, a picture appears.” Fíli explained. He made his parents promise him to try it out at breakfast.

“One more thing!” Kíli and Frodo teamed up to climb over Thorin (no, they couldn’t simply go to the end of the bed. That makes no sense! Climbing over their Papa was clearly the easier-and more fun-option) and dig out a book shaped package from their suitcase. Then they climbed back onto the bed the same way and presented the book to their parents. “Uncle Bofur and Uncle Frerin helped a lot with this one. But we did the glitter!” Of course they did.

“Oh yeah,” Fíli said. “Uncle Frerin has a message for you: Change your password.” Thorin groaned, coving his face with his hands as he thought of all the horrible things his brother did while on his computer.

But then Bilbo gasped. Thorin couldn’t help but peek through his fingers to see what had caused such a reaction.

“Oh Thorin look!” The cover was beautiful. Thick, dark blue paper with silver glitter spelling out ‘Thorin and Bilbo, 10th Anniversary’ on the top and bottom respectively, and in the center was a black and white photo of the two of them that was framed by more silver glitter. That particular photo had been taken not long after they had gotten together. They were sitting on the bank of the pond by Thorin’s parent’s house, Bilbo in between Thorin’s legs and Thorin’s bearded chin on his head as they stared out at the water. For the life of him, he can’t remember what they had been talking about when the photo had been taken, but he does remember that he pushed his brother into the pond for interrupting them.  

Curiously, Bilbo opened the album to the first page. The pages inside were thinner and cream colored. It read:

_Thorin and Bilbo_

_10 Years Married_

_15 Years Together_

_17 Years Menaces to Friends and Family_

Bilbo let out a watery laugh. His friends and family were utterly ridiculous. They weren’t that bad!

Turning his head, he pulled his husband into a long, sweet kiss. “Shall we take a look?” He asked when they parted.

Thorin nods, flipping the page himself.

The next page is dated just over seventeen years ago, and placed at Thorin’s parents’ home. The photo is an old Polaroid of them sitting on opposite sides of the couch, pointedly looking away from each other...


	2. Blown Kiss

Dís had that little shit of a friend Bilbo over again. She brought him over all of the time! First it started with a project for one of their classes, and then she just kept bringing him over. Frerin got along with him fine (in fact they got along almost as well as he did with Dís). Their parents _adored_ him.

Thorin hated Bilbo Baggins’s guts.

He hated that he always had a sarcastic remark for everything. He hated that round nose that was slightly too big for his face. He hated the wayward, golden curls. He hated Bilbo’s aversion to shoes (seriously? What had they ever done to him? No one wanted to see his dirty, fuzzy feet). He hated Bilbo’s attitude, the way Bilbo talked to him as if he was stupid. He hated that Bilbo could make anyone-including his family-like him with nothing more than a smile and a few polite comments.

Thorin hated Bilbo Baggins, and he made no attempts to hide it.

*

Bilbo didn’t hate Thorin per se, he would just much rather prefer if Thorin was on the other side of the earth and they had no social interactions ever. He was such a jerk! A handsome jerk, but a jerk nonetheless!

He disliked the way that Thorin seemed to look down at everyone. He disliked how Thorin never had anything nice to say. He disliked his short temper. He disliked how stupidly tall he was (which wasn’t really a good reason to dislike him, but don’t tell that to Bilbo). He disliked how Thorin would treat him like he was useless…

There were so many reasons why Bilbo didn’t like Thorin, and he made no attempts to hide each one.

*

They were sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, watching some movie Frerin had bought. Thorin sat like a brooding statue while the smaller man sat in a more comfortable position. And that position just happened to be with his feet tucked under his bottom.

“Get your nasty feet off of my couch.”

“You seem to be the only one who has a problem with it.”

“Your feet are _gross_.”

“Your face is gross.”

“Not as gross as yours.”

There was silence for a moment, and then the taller of the two let out a high pitched screech as Bilbo nearly rolled off of the couch in laughter. “Get your disgusting feet off of me!”

Frerin and Dís, who had been sitting not too far away, couldn’t contain their laughter anymore.  Frerin toppled onto the floor while his sister clutched at her sides. Thorin would get no help from them. Traitors. Bilbo took their laughter as a cue to keep going. He rubbed his furry toes along the side of Thorin’s thigh, and poked his upper arm more than once. Thorin slapped the foot away.

After the fifth or sixth poke (and an equal amount of slaps to his foot) Thorin had had enough. He stood from the couch and glared at the other three occupants of the room. “I’m going to go find more civilized company!” He hissed.

His sister waved him off. “Good luck with that!”

“Have fun!” Frerin added.

And Bilbo-the menace-pressed his palm to his lips and pulled it away with the most obnoxiously loud smacking noise. “Don’t forget to write, we won’t miss you!” Thorin sent him a rude gesture that sent the trio into another fit of laughter.

Honestly, for a bunch of twenty-somethings, they acted like children.


End file.
